“Where else would I be?” A surge of something far too close toemotionfloods through me. I hadn’t realized just how worried I was.
She's pale. The hospital gown does nothing for her color. There's an IV line in the back of her hand and a blood pressurecuff on her arm. She looks smaller here than she does anywhere else, and I hate it.
"Marsh says it went well," I say.
"I know. I can feel it. Still pain, but different. The kind of pain that has a reason, and will go away in time." She closes her eyes for a moment, and when she opens them again some of the haziness has cleared.
I take her hand in mine, kiss her knuckles and watch her smile slowly.
She's quiet for a moment.
"You should have gone to work," she says.
"It’s fine, Rovin knows I’m here and you are my top priority. He said we have to have a family dinner but I told him maybe next week if you’re up to it."
"I’ll be up to it," she says, and I know she means she will force herself through whatever she is feeling to be there beside me.
I hold her gaze. "No. We will attend if you are well enough.”
She closes her eyes again, and this time when she speaks her voice is smaller, worn down to something quieter than her usual precision. "Thank you for staying."
"When you’re ready, we’ll head home. There’s an entire shopping bag of pain relief for the next twenty-four hours, and you’ll be more comfortable in your own bed," I say.
She doesn't argue. Instead, she sits up, slowly and carefully, looking for the parts of her where stitches must be pulling, wincing slightly.
A nurse enters, takes her vitals, smiles and asks her how she is feeling. Then brings her some pain relief and a sandwich.
“Eat what you can, and use the toilet, then you can get ready to go home,” the nurse says, depositing a tray of food on the table that she has wheeled over Katriona’s lap.
Home. I think.With me.
“Kasimir has prepared the downstairs suite for you to use while you recover,” I say after she has taken her first few bites of the sandwich and tentatively washed them down with sips of water. She lifts her eyes to mine, and I can see there’s a question there. “Go on,” I say, “you can say whatever it is.”
“I’m just wondering when we’re going to…you know…be together.” She quickly takes another bite of sandwich and drops her eyes from mine. I wait until she has swallowed before taking her chin in my fingers and lifting her face until her eyes meet mine.
“We have plenty of time, Katriona. Right now, you need to heal from your operation.”
I hold her there for a minute, just looking into her eyes, wanting her to see that I’m in this for the long run, whatever that looks like. Her tongue darts out and wets her lips, and I take that moment to bend down, touch my lips to hers.
This time, the kiss is two sided. I pour every promise, every ounce of what goodness I have inside of me into it, and she kisses me back. Not with tentative surprise, but with the strength I’ve come to associate with her. It’s Katriona who deepens the kiss, pressing her tongue against my bottom lip until I open for her.
When we break apart, there’s more in her eyes now than I’ve seen before. I’ve seen the pain, and the reluctant acceptance. The hope, the gratitude, and once or twice, the attraction.
But this is different.
She is looking at me like she wants me.
“We should get you home,” I say, trying to break the spell between us. Her looking at me that way has woken in me something else entirely. Something dark and primal and savage. She needs to heal before I set that part of me free.
“Yes,” she says, pushing the table away and throwing back the sheets.
Katriona
It’s been five days and I’m vibrating with feelings that I don’t think I’ve ever experienced before.
Each day has gradually gotten better and better. Less pain has meant less pain relief, so less drowsiness and fogginess, more mobility. The stitches in my abdomen feel tighter than ever, which is a sign I’m healing well, apparently. But I can’t get Akyl and that damn kiss out of my mind. Because he hasn’t kissed me since.
My desire towards Akyl has done nothing but grow, and he has barely been anywhere near me. Standing in the doorway each morning, checking on me. Then when he gets back from meetings with his brothers, or jobs he has been on… The most he has done is touch the back of my hand where the bruise from the cannula is fading.
